Dark Angel
by OrangeGoddess
Summary: *Updated!* Animorphs/Harry Potter crossover. Rachel is back peoples! (As well as a certain evil ex-rodent...) Going to be mostly T/R, but I've added a decent amount of J/C for variety. Get's into darker topics as the story goes on... You have been fairly
1. Prologue

Dark Angel ****

Dark Angel

From the temple of the OrangeGoddess

~*~

Disclaimer: I do not own the Animorphs or Harry Potter characters. They belong solely to Scholastic and were written by K.A. Applegate and J. K. Rowling, respectively. To my knowledge, these events in the following work of fanfiction have not been previously used by any of writer. I do know that Rachel was refereed to as Renée (which means rebirth to the best of my knowledge) in another story, but I was unable to relocate it at the time I wrote this. When I do, I promise to give that person credit for the name change idea, but other then that there is nothing in common between the two stories. And no, I am not ripping of the TV show by the same name, nothing at all in common between the two. I'm sure the phrase existed beforehand, and so I'm using it now.

Normally, I am just a avid fanfiction reader, but this story has been swirling around in my brain for quite some time now, so I decided to type it out. As this is my first fanfiction and everything, I am more then willing to accept any type of review/help that is thrown my way. 

For those of you not familiar with the Animorphs, the "being" refereed to in the prologue is the character known as the Ellimist, a guy who basically monitors and reroutes events/timelines. I have him slightly stepping out of bounds in my story, but heck. The story wouldn't work if the good guy wasn't breaking rules in the beginning.

~*~

He stared at the twisting time particles, glowing strands of life that ended at various lengths signifying death. The golden rods twisted, turned, intertwined with others, and shot out on their own. He was particularly interested in five relatively short golden ribbons whose past lay in a minefield of pain, suffering, and loss. He redirected the course these were running so they spun of in a new direction, entering another plane of strands.

He magnified a half dozen other strands whose paths were close to nearing in a climax of power. These were now destined to meet those from the other plane and become part of a triumphant whole.

A final battle was approaching on Earth, one that would reshape the history of one culture and shake the foundation of another. Rules would have to be broken to ensure a safe victory for this lovely gem of a planet. At one time, he would not have interfered, but now they needed him. He would simply set forth the motions that would from into events as the humans took them. 

However, to get the desired results, several events in history needed to be undone or adjusted as was needed. One warrior to be called back from the spirit world, and one whose talents lay unused to be return to his human form. These would be harder to accomplish, but with those who sought to slow the progress of goodness and peace in there would currently wounded and weak, there would be no one to stop him.

The warrior had a brilliantly bright, violent, and short human life the last time she had been thrown into existence. For all her faults, she was fiercely loyal and true to those around her, willing to die to save her people. Her passing had caused much more pain then any of his kind had predicted, upsetting the course of events that bought about the end of the war between the Yeerks and the humans. She was proud, smart, and adaptable. The warrior would fit in well with the new task he was setting for her. Still... To achieve the status and person she had once been, she would have to fulfill an uphill journey involving the other he need to bring back. She had what was required to defeat the new darkness, if she could readjust.

He drew the spirit to him across the vastness and resettled it on earth with the mission and memories need to complete the cycle. As an afterthought he gave the warrior spirit a different body to occupy for the journey. She would not be recognized by those she once counted as teammates until the time was right. For now she would be a new person, completely the same in spirit but as different as night and day in appearance, something which humans paid far to much attention to. He felt the quick succession of emotions that radiated from the warrior. Surprise. Joy. Anger. Acceptance.

The second staff was from a bitterer life; one far more filled with failure and disappointment the warrior. They had much in common though, as his personal enemy had tried to use to his advantage. There was still time for there to be forgiveness and comradeship between the two fellow spirits before the union was ended by death. The cynical human was easily restored and placed at the correct location knowing the instructions to complete his fate. This one held all the joy at being restored, but was distrustfully grudging to the demands. 

The Ellimist smiled. The stage was set; everything was as it should be. All he needed to do know was to sit back and watch.


	2. Sins Forgiven

Dark Angel ****

Dark Angel

Chapter 1: Sins of the Past

From the temple of the OrangeGoddess

~*~

Disclaimer: I do not own the Animorphs or Harry Potter characters. They belong solely to Scholastic and were written by K.A. Applegate and J. K. Rowling, respectively. To my knowledge, these events in the following work of fanfiction have not been previously used by any of writer. I do know that Rachel was refereed to as Renée (which means rebirth to the best of my knowledge) in another story, but I was unable to relocate it at the time I wrote this. When I do, I promise to give that person credit for the name change idea, but other then that there is nothing in common between the two stories. And no, I am not ripping of the TV show by the same name (which I have never even _seen_), nothing at all in common between the two. I'm sure the phrase existed beforehand, and so I'm using it now.

Thank you to all you wonderfully spiffy people who reviewed the prologue for my pathetic attempt at a story! The fact that you actually wanted me to finish this put me on cloud nine. Really. =)

As for a few points I need to clear up, the warrior mentioned before was Rachel (as most of you guessed), and the other guy is David. *ducks as certain people start throwing rotten vegetables * He's going to be an _extremely_ reluctant good guy. The first D/R (more angsty than romantic stuff technically) is therefor David/Rachel. The second D/R is the remarkably sexy, leather wearing Draco as can be imagined after drooling over Starling's wonderful pics. Hence, the other D/R. No, Rachel is NOT a whore you sicko, she just draws the attention of many guys in my story, who all fall helpless at her feet. =) Never fear, D/R will never mean Dumbledore/Rachel. *shudders at the thought*

Tobias won't figure out who she is for awhile, so there will be an initial lack of T/R in the first few chapters.

*ducks as T/R fans throw sharp pointy objects*

I promise people, Rachel and Tobias will get back together ... EVENTUALLY!!! That is the sole point!

(Note: I would have had this up sooner, but ff.net kept messing up on me.)

~*~

Thunder rolled, lightning flashed across the sky like neon purple whips lashes of color, and rain spun from the heavens in a race to reach the already sodden earth. Streams of water turned to swiftly moving brooks and joined to become a raging river under a mountain-like dull grey incline that was accented by an unsteady coastline. Two black-robed figures stood at the summit, one untouched by the raging tempest and the other simply to hate-filled to notice the drenching rainfall. A great silence hung between the two, and the hatred in the icy glares and atmosphere chilled the surrounding air. 

At length the man broke the silence.

"So. I heard you were dead." There was no question in the tone.

"No. Terribly sorry to disappoint you David." The reply was quick, hate-filled, and delivered by a silvery voice colder then the ferocious rain that whipped the ebony ribbons of hair across the polished ivory face. 

"You've changed your look Xena. Tire of Marco's endless blonde jokes?"

A flounce of raven locks and a narrowing of angry charcoal eyes rewarded him for the attempted pun.

"No. I have nothing to do with the difference. The Ellimist felt it would be worthwhile if I was unrecognizable for this job. Too many know me as Rachel. My name and face were spread among the general public in masses when the war ended," the dark eyes narrowed, "But all this you already know."

David stepped closer Rachel decisively. 

"I love to hear you dwell in your miseries. Although," David moved until he was within inches of his sworn enemy and lowered his voice to the point that it was no more then a sinister whisper," I prefer to be the cause of your inner turmoil, warrior goddess."

Rachel turned slightly towards the tall form before her, the aged model of the boy who had caused her so much pain and sleepless nights. The mahogany eyes that met her gaze lacked none of the hatred of the figure in her nightmares, but in these pools there were other emotions swirling behind the loathing. Her delicate hand crept out of its' own accord and stroked the chilled tan cheek of her adversary. 

David's eyes looked started, but he made no move to stop the hand as it was joined by its' mate and began softly memorizing his features. Her breath caught in her throat and a single tear crept down her cheek as she whispered the three words that could start her inner healing.

"David, I'm sorry." 

No reply followed the confession and Rachel dropped her hands from his face and clasped them in from of her, but her gaze never left his.

"I took from you something I can never give back. I thought I was right at the time... but I wasn't. You didn't deserve what I did to you. No one does..." Rachel's voice trailed of into nothing before she swallowed and started over. "You've haunted my dreams ever since... ever since... I thought you were the evil in the Animorphs. The destructive force. But that was me just as much as it was you. But it was me."

The long confined confession broke of entirely and Rachel turned away from David and started walking away. After a few steps she faltered, swallowed hard, and continued down the hill. Her leather boots sank into the saturated ground as he earlier single tear was followed by a host of others that wet her face where the rain had been mysteriously repelled. Only David could make her cry like this. Only ever David.

"Rachel."

The word was spoken with caution, and carried thinly threw the gusts. She turned back with her mouth hardened, but spirit shaken by the look she saw on her adversary's face. The long arms reached for her and opened and she went into them.

The hug was long and full of a wordless forgiveness that wrapped like a bandage around the gaping holes in the kindred spirits. A single chaste kiss of forgiveness was exchanged breathlessly between their hungry mouths as their hands and arms tightened to iron grasps around each other. There was so much time lost to hate, so much that they could never take back...

The storm around them abated as they released each other and moved together to a stone castle framed against the horizon by repeated flashed of lightning.

~*~

Dumbledore turned from the window and stroked the head of phoenix perched on his desk.

"As predicted they're coming."

The bird closed its' eyes regally as the vein crossed hand hit a spot directly above the gold and scarlet neck.

"Together the warrior and the rebel will become the team we need to end this war before more innocent lives are senselessly lost among our people."

The bird winked up at the aged wizard with understanding and kindred humor alive in the open eye.

"And now the others will come."

~*~

Half way across the would, four isolated people stopped and turned to the east, all feeling the call that, like a ribbon of invisible music, wrapped its way around their minds and became a glowing obsession. 

They must come. Come to reunite. Reach to become stronger. Join to fight, to bleed, and draw the blood of others. Their souls knew one more thing that must be done. 

They must arrive prepared to forgive.

~*~

In a small, dust-filled, and little used apartment two men looked at each other suddenly. The shorter one, who had streaks of early grey in his brown hair, picked up a wand extinguished the small fire in the grate. The taller, darker man with haunted eyes, waited silently for other. 

After a nod of understanding, both men disappeared from the room with a small popping noise that echoed in the emptiness of the room.

~*~

Ok, ok, so this time Rachel and David are slightly out of character. I always saw David as the cause of a lot of Rachel's inner demons in the books, more so after #48.

As a technical question, can I set this story up to be in the Animorph and Harry Potter columns at the same time? I'm new at this. *shrugs* Anybody interested in reading these for me before I post them? I could use all the help I can get to this story as good as possible. Feel free to email me ([orangegoddess2001@yahoo.com)][1]. I love email!

Now, everybody scroll on down to the bottom of the page and write a juicy review (any type) in the below blank. Danke! =)

   [1]: mailto:orangegoddess2001@yahoo.com)



	3. Burned Bridges

Dark Angel

Chapter Two: Burned Bridges

From the temple of the OrangeGoddess

~*~

__

Disclaimer: I do not own the Animorphs or Harry Potter characters. They belong solely to Scholastic and were written by K.A. Applegate and J. K. Rowling, respectively. To my knowledge, these events in the following work of fanfiction have not been previously used by any of writer. And no, I am not ripping of the TV show Dark Angel, nothing at all in common between the two. I'm sure the phrase existed beforehand, and so I'm using it now. So there! Ha! =)

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first two parts of my story! *hugs* Thanks for all comments peoples!

I'm new to this whole writing fanfiction thing, so I appreciate and help you can throw my way. If anyone is interested in editing these chapters before I post them, please drop me a line at [_orangegoddess2001@yahoo.com_][1]_. Danke!_

~*~

The wind howled like a lost soul around the ancient grey stone of the age-old fortress. The rain-infested tempest of early evening had died down to become a steady light drizzle accented with a light mist. A half moon shone occasionally through the thin robes of grey clouds low over head causing odd shadows to scamper across the wet grass.

Two sets of footsteps padded through the relative quiet of the deserted castle grounds. One set was light, quick, and reminiscent of a cat's prowl. The other was heavier, more burdened, and sullen. The mist swirled apart to the sides as curtains open before actors on a stage, and the makers of the footsteps drew into view. Both travelers' faces were heavily shadowed from view by the heavy, hooded cloaks but an occasional facial feature came into to view. The expressive eyes of the woman, the set way of the man's chin, and the strange inner light of past and purpose that glowed from within them both.

As they neared the stone steps that led to the front door of the castle, Rachel faulted slightly in her stride and half-turned back toward her companion. No spoken words passed between the pair and the air crackled with an unspoken, age-old understanding. The mahogany pools of the David's eyes deepened as he acceptably pulled even with his raven-haired companion. The couple's hands didn't touch as neither wanted physical companionship from the other, but mentally they clasped hands as they waited. 

Rachel studied the castle in front of her with intense concentration, her pale brow furrowing with the weight and worry of the future. She had accepted her future carrier path in this new war as soon as she had been "reborn". She was Xena warrior princess wasn't she? Why wouldn't she be looking forward to rushing forward and spilling more enemy blood? Her cheeks flushed in mirror of her inner anger. How dare they all assume that killing was all she knew… was all she wanted. This Dark Lord guy, Voldamore, he was just another one of those killing bullies she had encountered in the last war. He was a bastard who frightened people into submission, nothing stronger. Rachel hadn't even met him yet, but she would bet anything that he had a lot in common with the former Visser One. 

After a few minutes of undisturbed silence a light came on inside the castle and traveled on the interior until it reached the area unseen behind the colossal front doors. There was a pause and then the wooden doors swung open silently on the oiled hinges.

~*~

Severus Snape had kept vigil at the front windows of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from the position of a hard leather armchair for several hours before the strange visitors had appeared from the shroud of fog as suddenly and silently as phantoms.

Even from this distance he could feel the familiar cold radiation coming off of these two. The aura one carries after being touched by evil stays with you forever, no matter how much you change afterwards. You can never quiet redeem your soul after such an encounter, no matter how much you strive to do so. Snape understood this permanent veil of darkness well, having carried it for so long himself. He too had slipped down the path to inner blackness, and he too knew that the return path to the safe and well-lighted ground of the good was much steeper and treacherous to climb. 

The potion master brushed his flat, oily, soot colored hair out of his face with a jerk of impatience before retrieving his wand from the desk nearest the chair he had been occupying. He lit the tip of his wand with a simple spell, held the glowing scepter before himself like a candle, and moved unhurriedly through the shadow infested rooms to the entrance hall.

With his bony poised just the doorknob, Snape paused and stood contemplating what he was about to do. By letting these other marred souls into his only home, he would be holding a mirror up to himself that would show him a part of his past he was not in a hurry to see. These shadowed warrior children were the same age that he had been when he had finally had enough strength to push away from the dark lord who ruled all of his moments, waking and sleeping.

If he let them in, Snape would be forced to see again the person he had been… the person he secretly still felt he was.

Someone coughed quietly behind him, and Snape turned to find the white beard and wise knowing eyes of Albus Dumbledore watching him struggle with his emotions. Snape forced his trademark sneer onto his face before spinning around and yanking the doors open.

~*~

In a dingy deserted alley deep in the labyrinth of Hogsmeade a rat ran like a shadow from heap to heap of useless discarded junk looking for edible scrapes. The large rodent paused and stared at a section of alley farther down with dirty whiskers twitching. The hairs on the back of its' furry neck rose in distrust as the air shimmered and two ragged men appeared out of thin air. With a startled squeak the rat turned and dove out of sight with a parting wave of its' naked tail.

The taller of the two men, darker in color and complexion, place his wand in a pocket on the inside of his robe before wordlessly shifting form into that of a large black dog. His shorter, lighter companion waited for his old friend to the identity concealing transformation before strolling down the alley to the adjoining street.

As the two companions strolled down the cobbled street, shop lights temporarily highlighted the streaks of grey in Remus Lupin's shaggy light brown hair. The gaze in the eyes was sharp, intelligent and the brown robes were clean but clearly old and well patched.

Laughter spilled out of the nearby door of the local pub and the pair of man and beast silently drifted across the street.

After several minutes of walking the street wandered away from the sleepy town and climbed a gentle hill to a deserted wreak of a house. The sooty canine ran ahead and slipped in through a crack near the front door. By the time Lupin reached the front stoop, a now human Sirius Black already had the squeaky door open for him.

Re-locking the weather worn door behind him, Lupin followed Black through a series of dusty, deserted rooms. In each room Lupin ran his delicate fingers lightly over teeth and claw made scars in the battered furniture, a reminder of his other life. 

Black waited at the entrance to a low tunnel for a respectable pause where, after a nod from Lupin, he turned and sped through the dirt passage, speedily followed by his life long friend.

~*~

__

Ok, how was it? Came off a little rough to me, but after being out of town for two weeks I needed to get something up. Please review in the spiffy little box below this! Thanks!

   [1]: mailto:orangegoddess2001@yahoo.com



	4. Hanging on to Shadows

Dark Angel

Dark Angel

Chapter Three: Hanging on to Shadows

From the temple of the OrangeGoddess

~*~

__

Disclaimer: I do not own the Animorphs or Harry Potter characters. They belong solely to Scholastic and were written by K.A. Applegate and J. K. Rowling, respectively. To my knowledge, these events in the following work of fanfiction have not been previously used by any of writer. And no, I am not ripping of the TV show Dark Angel, nothing at all in common between the two. I'm sure the phrase existed beforehand, and so I'm using it now. So there! Ha! =)

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first three parts of my story! *hugs* Ail, Alikat, Southernbelle14, Ruby, ~*~Muchaca~*~ , Mythos, Dark Angel (the person, apparently), Parvati Brown, sara, and my good buddy Kahlan for not only reviewing but also editing this chapter before I put it out. You all rock, ya know that? =)

This chapter starts getting a little bit darker then the original few installments. If swearing, drinking, or blood bothers you, you probably shouldn't read the rest of this! You have been fairly warned.

~*~

Bill Wesley leaned against the lamppost caddie-corner to a very ordinary looking house. Plain red brick, one story, no decoration, neatly trimmed lawn. Nothing about this house would make you think that there was anything special about the owner. After all, what kind of teenager-turned-world-leader would choose to live almost undetected for the rest of their lives when they could get anything they wanted in a spotlight life?

The long-haired wizard drew back into the shadows of a nearby wooded lawn as an unmarked white Honda in need of a good wash drove up the street from behind him. The driver was a man in his middle twenties, average length brown hair. The man's jaw had a tense, determined set to it. Matched with the tired and weary eyes, Bill felt that that Jake Berenson had become a person that he would rather not mess with out of respect to the underlying current of power and violence that clearly still ran through the veins of the ex-leader of the Animorphs.

The Honda turned slowly into the average American driveway and pulled into the average American garage. In the golden glow of the garage light Bill watched Jake Berenson get slowly out of the car, collect a briefcase and laptop from the back seat, and wearily climb the short case of cement steps up to the door into the empty house. After a second of fumbling, the young man burdened with an age-old soul pushed the black button to send the garage door back down and walked out of Bill's sight into the house.

A light summer wind playfully tried to pull strands of Bill's long red hair out of the leather band that held it in a tail at the back of neck. Having no immediate success, the breeze wandered on to tease someone else… after a playful tug at the dragon tooth earring in Bill's hair. Bill grinned, revealing a mouth of nearly perfect white teeth, enjoying the joke as much as the wind sprite. As a light came on in the front room of the brick house, however, the former head boy became serious once again.

Dumbledore's instruction had been for Bill to talk the ex-Animorph into coming to England and help fight the dark lord. Why Dumbledore was so sure that someone who had avoided everything that had to do with fighting as well as his fellow living ex-warriors would suddenly drop everything and work for people that he probably didn't believe existed…Well, Bill frankly had no idea there. Jake was a noted recluse who, aside from work at a lonely government position, was rarely seen anywhere in the company of the living. Jake frequented the memorials of his dead cousin and brother but totally avoided any that were still breathing who reminded him of the past.

Bill's eyes narrowed again as Jake B moved silhouetted across his livingroom to fall prone on his aged brown sofa. Bill had, of course, memorized every detail of Jake's living arrangements when he had ahem let himself in earlier. After tombs in Egypt the small lonely house had been a piece of cake for the eldest Wesley. Bill doubted that Jake would ever notice, even if Bill told him later, that his home had ever been violated.

Pulling a normal looking cigarette lighter from his muggle jacket pocket, Bill calmly began to extinguish all the lights on the street. There was little danger of anyone watching, let alone caring, at this time of night but Bill wasn't taking any chances at this stage in the game.

~*~

Jake practically hung over the edge of the worn sofa that was slightly too short from his long, lean frame. Hypothetically, this was the where (if someone asked) you replied that you had just endured a very long day. In Jake's case, though, he felt that he was enduring a very long life. He'd tried everything to try to regain a more normal bachelor life: whores, drinking, drugs… Unfortunately nothing had helped pull him out of the hole that he had buried himself in. he was incapable of laughter, happiness… Dating had been pretty much ruled out of his life. There had plenty of women who had been interested after the war ended but he hadn't wanted any of them. The one woman he had ever cared about was now involved with someone else and obviously didn't care that he existed.

The emotionally aged leader rolled over onto his side for a brief time before sitting slowly and removing his shoes. After dropping them with hallow _thunks_ on the sand colored carpet bellow him, Jake ran his tan, muscled hand over his face, which had slightly more then a five o'clock shadow on it.

Damn, he needed a drink.

Rising and thumping down the short hallway to the kitchen Jake randomly turned on lights in the empty, colorless rooms. The house had no life, no home feeling like the one had grown up in had. These brick walls contained none of the love, life, and family that the now flattened walls of childhood home would still have if the Yeerks had left them standing. Or would they? One son dead and the other a near zombie… Would his parents still care?

Jake pulled a cold bottle of vodka out of the white refrigerator, decided that he wasn't hungry, and closed the door. 

After twisting the top off the bottle Jake drank deeply from the drugging liquid. After polishing off half the clear bottle of poison, Jake lowered it and let his gaze wander around the unfriendly room. Cabinets, appliances, window and a door… His gaze caught on the only splash of color in the room.

The eight x 10 picture was framed with a simple bronze band and protected from dust by clear glass. There were six young people in the frozen image of the past. Jake drew nearer to the picture until his hot sticky breath barely fogged up the glass shield. Two girls, four boys. Six smiles, but the one that stuck out the most belonged to the tall blonde beauty queen in the center. 

Jake laughed hollowly; thinking of the punishment that Rachel would have inflicted if she had heard the term "beauty queen" referred to herself. The abrupt noise bounced out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and caused the red haired man who had just entered through the front door to pause momentarily. 

Jake now commenced his ritual of mocking the people immortalized in the picture, choosing today to mock his dead cousin exclusively.

"So, Xena, how was your day? Good? They take good care of dead warriors, do they?"

After taking another swig of vodka, Jake raised the clear bottle shakily to the picture of his deceased relative.

"Here's to us Rach. Is it easier to be dead Rachel? To not have to clean up all the physical and emotional trash left by the mother-fucking Yeerks?"

The gaze of the face in the picture was now blurrier, but it also looked solemner to Jake somehow.

"I tried to join you several times Xena. Did you know that? I had the gun in place so many times… But I was too much of a coward to fucking finish the job," Jake's drink slurred voice had now risen considerably, causing Bill Weasley to wince.

Jake rambled on, talking the flat reminder of his shadowed past.

"I kept seeing you bitch everytime I was about to finally end this. But no, you wouldn't let me, God damn you!"

Jake swung the not empty bottle of spirits at the frame. Even as drunk as he was, Jake was too close to miss.

The bottle connected and glass shattered to the far corners of the room and rained onto the front of Jake's shirt. Small red dots appeared suddenly on the white fabric as the now uncaged photograph fell lazily to the floor to rest picture side up. A single drop of blood dripped onto Rachel's face, the red smear erasing all facial features.

After watching the picture's slow progress Jake's eye's closed and he slumped towards the tile floor, grasped upright inches from contact by Bill's muscular arms.

~*~

Upon entering Hogwarts, Rachel was stunned by the how large a space the school took up. It seemed several times bigger on the inside then it had looked from the grounds. Momentarily placing her hand on the grey masonry nearest her, Rachel could feel the life within the ancient stones. This building lived, breathed. It was almost a living person, but at the same time was so much more.

At a sharp, impatient look from the hostile man who had let she and David in, Rachel withdrew her hand quickly and followed the quiet, sallow faced stranger deeper into the castle.

As the trio ascended a staircase and began a journey through the labyrinth of passages and doors, Rachel barely had anytime to grasp where she was going. There were few lights in the dark hallways, the strongest source being the hostile man's wand. 

Glancing sideways Rachel found David's altered face devoid of expression, making it impossible for her to guess what he old enemy was thinking. David's new face was good looking, she had decided, with the subtle adjustments to features which, when age was added, made him look very different from the angry young man she had once known and hated. When the Ellimist had returned her life with the assignment of working with David, Rachel had been less then thrilled by the idea. But now…

With a mystified shake of her now raven head Rachel turned her attention of their silent leader. As moonlight from a nearby window they were passing highlighted his face, she glanced at a nearby mirror that reflected the image. Despite the intentional lack of care about his manner, Rachel could see the fact that the profile itself was not bad looking. The man slowed for a fraction of a second as he turned a corner, and in the millisecond his dark, angry eyes mad contact with hers. The dark robed man started, and something in his gaze changed slightly before he swept down the hallway at an even fast pace.

"Did you give him the evil eye Xena?" David's cold drawl coming from her right surprised Rachel.

She glared at David with extreme distaste before quickening her pace so that she pulled ahead of him, breaking the thin membrane of growing companionship into tiny glittering pieces as she went.

~*~

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Thanks for reading to the end of the slightly longer chapter! Was it good, bad? Please review in the little box below and let me know!


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